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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23283880">At his bedside</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterwintersnow/pseuds/bitterwintersnow'>bitterwintersnow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>His Bedside [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Peaky Blinders (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hopeful Ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:14:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23283880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterwintersnow/pseuds/bitterwintersnow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She's been taking care of him for months until she found herself slipping.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grace Burgess/Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Original Character(s), Tommy Shelby/Original Female Character(s), Tommy Shelby/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>His Bedside [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674487</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>At his bedside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Free continuation of "A Candle on the bedside table", though you don’t have to read it to enjoy this (though I’d be happy if you did because I enjoyed writing that one, haha). Again very vague but with Tommy in mind so hints on Grace, nightmares and all the angst with hopeful ending. After writing this I feel like I should have left the oneshot alone but here we are anyway! Next time I will write something that actually uses names for once.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She knew he had nightmares. Some nights were just worse than others.</p><p>At the beginning, when he slept most of the time due to pain medication and exhaustion, they were the worst. She would find him thrashing in bed, making his wounds bleed all over again and when he finally woke up, he had that look on his face - eyes wide but glazed over, like a veil, as if he did not really see what was in front of him. Sweat dripping from his temples, hair sticking to his forehead. If his voice was not lost, he called her by a name that was not hers. She was gentle with him, swiping hair out of his eyes and cradling his face, whispering words of reassurance and when he calmed down a bit and his breathing evened out, off she went to grab a washcloth and new bandages.</p><p>Sometimes he was already sleeping when she returned but most of the time he was somewhere in his delirium. Mumbling things almost inaudibly, things that made sense to no one but himself. She saw him like this almost every night and she had to admit to herself that despite being familiar with these states, somewhere in the far corner of her soul, the sight made her heart wrench. She didn’t let that be known though, for she knew he needed help, not her pity.</p><p>Time had passed, the morphine had been left out of his prescriptions. It didn’t do him good, he said, nor was it helping with pain anymore. Things went by. His eyes weren’t hazy anymore but they looked empty, lifeless. She knew he wasn’t alright but she did what she could. Kept showing up at his house, helping him out to get back on track again, become functional enough to slowly go back to everyday life and making sure he didn’t do anything reckless. And the biggest surprise for her was that along the way, he didn’t protest much. He let her help him and she appreciated that.</p><p>But now it felt like they were taken back to the start. He fell ill with a horrible fever after the weekend he decided he wanted to be alone and scared her out of her mind when she found his house empty. Going out in pouring rain in nothing but his shirt and trousers, that was an impulse he took upon and didn’t return until almost sunset. So much for preventing him from doing anything reckless, though despite the worry for the man she took care of every day for the last couple of months, it felt like a right thing to do at the time. She’d been around for so long, it was about time he started being alone again, do things his way. It was just for one weekend, she told herself. And yet… so here she was again, at his bedside with a cold towel to put on his forehead.</p><p>Fever nights brought back fever nightmares. The sight of his unconscious suffering didn’t get any better over the months and the inexplicable dread in her stomach almost made her hand shake when she gently put it on his shoulder, whispering his name. He didn’t talk about what he saw in his nightmares often but when he did, there were no words that would form a proper reply, so she almost always resolved into the comfort of silence and making a cup of hot cocoa or milk with honey. After a few tries, he finally opened his eyes, jolting awake.</p><p>She expected him to call her the another’s woman name again but he only sat there, eyes wide, shivering.</p><p>“It’s okay, you are okay,” she whispered, one hand on his forehead, the other on his cheek. He was burning and his night shirt was soaking wet with cold sweat. She gave him a minute to recollect himself, even his breathing out before he fell back to the pillow with a deep sigh.</p><p>“You have to change out of the shirt, it’s drenched.”</p><p>As she was pulling him to sit up, he suddenly wrapped his hands around her and buried his face into her dress. It caught her by surprise but she let him.</p><p>“You are the only fucking thing left.”</p><p>She knew he was not talking to her. But she said nothing. As soon as he had a dry shirt on and ice-cold towel over his eyes, she left the room, her stomach sunken low.</p><p>***</p><p>She barely slept that night but it wasn’t because of his fever. It was her own mind, thinking about the way he acted towards her since he returned from his walk, the way she unknowingly let this behaviour affect her. That was another reason why his words over breakfast caught her unprepared.</p><p>“I meant it, you know,” he said, looking at her and she felt like he is seeing right into that hidden corner of her soul she was trying so hard to silence, “You are the only one I have left.”</p><p>She hated how these words made her feel. She knew he is vulnerable and he says things he doesn’t necessary mean. She saw it, time and time again with soldiers and heavily medicated patients, confessing their never-ending love and affection for her when she was tending to their wounds or ruffling their pillows.</p><p>But when he said it, it was worse. There was this inner conflict she inflicted upon herself, how she let her boundaries be pushed further, despite knowing how these things go. She knew, deep down, that even the kiss he gave her when he returned from his wandering wasn’t exactly what it seemed like. It was tender. It was painful.</p><p>She let him though. She let him rest in her arms, let him find comfort with her but deep down she knew he was a broken man and she was slipping, the same way he was slipping in the middle of the night when he woke up from a horrible dream with hazy eyes. And that was on her - she could only blame herself she felt this way about him.</p><p>“It was you why I returned.”</p><p>“… what?”</p><p>He was looking out of the kitchen window into the distance. The day was gloomy but it stopped raining at last. She didn’t notice.</p><p>“At first, I saw her. It’s always her. She keeps telling me things, you know. But not this time. She didn’t know me. As if I was a stranger.”</p><p>A beat of silence.</p><p>“But then, it was you. It was you who was talking.”</p><p>She had no idea what to say.</p><p>“I knew you would never let me do anything I did that day. So, I have returned. And you were here.” His voice was raspy and she couldn’t bring herself to focus her eyes on him.</p><p>“You came.”</p><p>“Maybe you should return to bed before you get too exhausted, you still have a fever.”</p><p>Her mind was set on default by his words. She heard what he said but she couldn’t process it. He was still sitting there, looking at her, lips slightly parted, not even blinking. The silence lasted almost forever, like time had slowed down. Now it was her who felt like in an altered reality, a fever dream.</p><p>“Maybe you are right. Maybe I am too exhausted. Tired of all of these things. Or, just too sober on most days to say any of this shit out loud. Maybe that’s the fuckin truth.”</p><p>“You are not yourself, maybe after- “</p><p>“There’s no after. Nothing changes.”</p><p>He was looking at her. Eyes clear, still no spark in them still but neither the haze, just the underlying shade of pain and heaviness. She could see his hands shaking.</p><p>“What is it you want to tell me, then?”</p><p>“The truth is, there was something about that walk. Made me realize a few things.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“I want you by my side.”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“You’ve seen the side of me very few have seen before. But you didn’t back away to comfortable distance. You didn’t leave the moment your job was done.” She saw him standing up and walking towards her but she did not move, she was frozen in place, heart pounding loudly in her chest.</p><p>“I wanted to push you away but I never could bring myself to do it. Because it was your hands that held my face when I woke up in the middle of the night.”</p><p>He stood there, the same way he stood when he came back that evening. Same look on his face, the only thing missing was the pouring rain outside and silent water droplets hitting the floor.</p><p>“The truth is, I grew weak. I grew weary and tired. And at this point, I don’t think I can recover,” he put his hands on her shoulders and it brought her partly back to reality.</p><p>“I can help you,” she heard herself whisper and she knew she is quickly approaching the line she was so wary of. He shook his head, eyes focused on her.</p><p>“That’s not what I am asking.”</p><p>She felt a wave of chill running down her spine. She was trying to avoid exactly this, this situation. She was trying but she fucked up. After so much time and experience doing this, she let herself get too close. It was a mistake. But she could only blame herself. He said he grew weak. So did she.</p><p>She brought her hands to his face to cradle it once more, thumbs caressing his cheeks. She held him like this almost every night but she wanted to hold him every single night.</p><p>“I’ll be by your side.”</p>
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